


Frame of mind

by masterofstars



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Puppets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofstars/pseuds/masterofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro has always had a weird relationship with Cal but it's all a matter of perspective, and until he's drunk it usually doesn't go too far. Not until things get a little awkward and he caves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frame of mind

Your name is Bro Strider.

You're drunk off your ass, and you most definitely are not starting the story like this. C'mon, who hasn't done that? Everyone knows your name anyway. You're fuckin' rich and cool as hell. Why introduce yourself? So maybe no one would be able to recognize you right now without an introduction, but that doesn't matter. You're still cool.

Even as you sit slumped down on the futon in the living room of a far too dark apartment, looking like you swallowed down an entire liquor store then trudged your way home through a hurricane. These kinds of things don't diminish cool. At least you don't think they do. You can't really remember most of the rules that cool goes by, probably because of that liquor store currently coursing through your body and still making most of your thoughts a haze.

It may not be crossing your mind at the time, but it was almost kind of pathetic. Hell, this probably wouldn't even cross your mind when you got sober. You'd been out partying at least half of the week, and considering it was now early in the dark morning of Sunday, that meant you would probably start up again with the new week. There was a reason you did it- all the drinking, dancing, mixing. Anything really. Out of the house and in a club, that's what you wanted. But at the time you couldn't remember.

Not until the sound of a little breath came from somewhere across the room and your head tilts up, eyes opening. You can't remember closing them, nor when the small figuring standing across from you came into the room, but he's there. 

"You went out again." His voice is low. Low in a way you already hate. It's accusatory in it's quietness and it almost makes you feel a twinge of guilt in the pit of your stomach. 

Somehow he always manages to be able to do that to you. Even after a good night of good drinks and even better dancing, he can make you feel like shit about it with just one glance of those blue eyes. Even from where you're sitting you can see how his white gloved hands are idly twitching in front of his stomach, his stance obviously nervous.

"Yeah. Guess I did." Your own voice is slurred, even you can hear it. You know it's bad when you can hear it and know you're drunk as hell. It makes him cringe and you hate it. 

His next words are slower, hesitant in nature even as he says them. You almost expect him to just drop the sentence halfway through. "You... Didn't bring anyone home this time."

It's not a question, but you nod in response anyway. The usual accompaniment of an attractive man or woman is lacking, and you can guess why he's questioning it. You've always brought people since... What happened between you too. 

Somehow he takes the fact that you nod to that as an invitation to come closer, and for some reason you don't tell him not to when he comes over and looks at your lap questioningly. He sits down with a leg on each side of your lap, his over large blue t shirt held in his hands and tugged down over the orange pinstripped leggings. Fuck he's cute.

And that's what makes you remember why you go out. Why you get drunk. 

"Cal..." With a long, drawn out breath you try to resist touching him. Even just something light. You don't want him getting the wrong idea. Whatever idea that is.

He's already got that look on his face, the one where he wants to say something and you can already guess what it is. At least you think you can. He'll go on about how he only wants what's best for you and that you should be more careful. But what he says surprises you.

"Dave said it's my fault." Although his voice is quiet, it's clear as day. No wavering or voice crack. Just plain fact that kind of makes you want to touch him now, just to see if he's having to work hard to put up the stoic front. He's looking at your face as if it doesn't hurt him, and you really hope it doesn't.

"What's your fault?" You already know the answer.

"You leaving. Coming back with strangers. Getting drunk so much." He's still keeping the act up flawlessly and you're honestly impressed by how he's doing it so well.

"Well..." You're not sure what to say to that because he's not wrong. Ever since the rundown in his room two weeks ago, the almost kiss and even closer almost L-word confession. He knew it had been affecting both of them in different ways. They hardly ever talked, and when they did it was only ever in short pleasantries that ended up awkward and unpleasant all around. 

His face drops when you don't deny it and his blue eyes fall down to your lap, and oh god he looks like he's about to cry. You know he's got the glossy eye thing going on, but holy shit he was totally about to cry. 

"Hey, hey. None 'a that." Without thinking about it you reach up to slide your fingertips over his rosy pink cheeks, which get a little pinker at your touch. He doesn't hesitate to lean into it and for a moment you just look at him as he closes his eyes.

It's not that you don't feel the same way back. It's actually entirely opposite. You do. You know you do. Every time you feel the orange fabric up against you and feel him looking at you from across the room you can feel it. Hot and festering and utterly unavoidable. With him in your lap like this it's always worse. 

But he's warm and soft and so pliant when it comes to you that it's so damn hard to resist. It's weird and odd in so many ways and you know that's why you take people home. You're not trying to hurt him, you're trying to reassure yourself. But it never works. They aren't like him. You know if you ever... Did anything with him, so to speak, that it would be different. That it would feel different. And you want to tell him that but you know you can't.

He's always been there for you, since before you can even remember. Each and every time you needed any kind of comfort or assurance he was always the first one there. No matter what. Your arms around him always made you feel a thousand times better, and now as you let your hands fall onto his thighs and feel over them, you can feel him shudder from the touch. And you can hear yourself sigh, drawn out and longing.

"You know this isn't good. For either of us. I can't- it's not normal." Your voice is getting terribly quiet as you speak to him. Your words completely oppose your actions as you slide your thumbs up over his slender hips.

And you know you've made a mistake when he lets out the softest of mewls at the touch, moving up to press even closer to you. He shivers once, no longer looking at you but resting against you to hide his face. "Bro, please. You want me. I know you do. Don't tease me if you're going to say no."

His voice is so small and broken sounding at this point that you're sure he's more heart broken than you could even understand. And you swear you can feel your own heart sink in your chest. You know you should say no but he's so right. You want him. You don't want to put him through this anymore. "Shhhh... I won't." 

You're not sure whether that was in either of your best interests to say but it makes him look up, eyes wide and blinking as he took your words to process. As he does you can see the exact moment he understands and his face light up. And then he's kissing you. Or maybe you kissed him. But either way your lips are together and god you love it.

It's another few minutes of kissing before you pick him up, so small and soft in your arms as you stand. His arms drape over your shoulders easily, comfortably. With a few stumbles you manage to get to your room and close the door behind you. It should feel wrong, but as you set him down on your bed it feels so right to look down at him, all flushed pink and pretty. Before anything else you reach down into the drawer you know holds the condoms and grab them. 

If you're going to do this, you're going to do it right. You know that much. Setting the condoms down for later, you focus your attention on him. Everything is soft touches and warm breaths against him as you feel over his form that's so familiar. His slender form underneath your hands seems to slightly tremble, the fabric of his shirt so loose that you can easily push you hands under it. 

He's quiet all through the treatment and you can tell he's biting his lip, trying to keep quiet with his cheeks so red in embarrassment. But as you slide your hand down further you know he loves it from the tiny muffled moan. Your hand just barely ghosts over his thighs and he's spreading them out for you. Shaky but more than eager. And you're sure he can handle is as you start to ghost your fingers over his entrance, sliding in two fingers to start off.

It's so surprise to you just how warm he is and the subtle noise he makes as you start to slowly push your fingers in and out of him, getting him used to the movements so he'll be ready for you. His breath is starting to grow erratic and uneven just a few minutes into the stretching, his little gloved fingers splaying out over the sheets and digging into them.

"Bro! More, please. Hnn, more!" He cries out and you can tell he's got his head turned to it's partly muffled into the sheets.

It makes a chuckle leave your throat to hear him so desperate. The usual smart talking little shit you adored was now mewling and begging for more and writhing on your bed. And it's just about the most arousing thing you've ever seen in your entire life. The tent in the front of your jeans is enough proof of that. The erection you have is straining almost painfully against the fabric but it's fixed pretty quickly as you undo the zipper in record time. After you kick your shoes off you discard both onto the floor and climb on top of him, towering over his small, squirming body.

The eyes he gives you are enough to have you almost moaning with just how longing and lusty they are. With less that fluid movements you grind the bulge in your boxers down against him and you can feel him tense with the feeling of it. It's so easy to tell how much he wants you and for a moment you just let that sink in. You knew he wanted it but now that you've agreed to it somehow its so much more real. Almost surreal. Maybe it's because you're still drunk or the fact that he's got you overcome with lust, but it's making you eager to please and in a hurry to feel him around you for real. The thought lingers in your head as you push down your boxers and grab for a condom from the box. In a mere seconds you're tearing it open with your tear and sliding it down your length with shaky hands. He's almost bouncing with anticipation as he watches you, fingers clutching onto the blankets with white knuckles. You can almost hear him whimper from the back of his throat in need, his eyes glancing down at the hard on you're sporting and that time you definitely hear the whine.

It makes your lips quick up into a sly grin. Your hands are back on him in no time, trailing over his thighs in a way that you can tell makes him impatient. With a firm grip you grab onto them and pull him up against you so you can glide up against his entrance. His legs secure around your waist as your hips move against him just to give him a taste. 

After a few moments of just that Cal starts to arch his hips into it, trying desperately to push back onto your cock. "Pleaseeee, Bro. Fuck me, do it! I want you!" 

Each little movement he gives against you sends your body into waves of pleasure and before long you can't tease anymore. It's too hard to resist him as he whimpers for you. Reaching a hand down, it only takes a few seconds to line up with his entrance and slowly push in.

"O-ohhh god, yes..." As you push in he arches up more to press up against your chest. You can feel his hot breath on the skin of your neck and you can tell he's grabbing onto you for dear life.

He's so small and tight under you that you're almost afraid of breaking him, so it takes a small while to ease up into something more than just slow, shallow thrusts but once he does it's pure bliss. All his small little noises turn into louder moans in your ear and eager pleas of 'more', 'faster' and the occasional voice crack as he says your name.

Your own breath starts to become labored the more you thrust into his velvety warmth. It's a little messy but you hardly even notice as you grasp onto his hips hard enough to bruise. All it takes is a short squeeze and a change of angle and he's almost screaming for you. It pushes you closer and closer but you hold it back. You want this to last as long as possible, with your arm going to support his hips from behind and hold him up. 

He trembles under you before calling out your name and before you can comprehend it he's tightening around you in a way that feels so good it pushes you to climax, too. With each harder last thrust you give to him he pants and whimpers, over stimulated as you ride out your own orgasm.

It takes a few moments for you to really come down back to your senses and when you do he's always gazing up at you with those adoring blue eyes. "Bro, B-Bro I love you."

"I love you too, Cally." Your voice is more affectionate than you ever thought possible when you whisper the words to him, and instantly you can tell it makes him happier than ever. His smile is too good for you to not smile back at, and lean down to peck gently.

After a few more affectionate whispers and gentle touches over his skin you move back. You make sure to be careful about it as you pull out of him. Discarding the condom and getting back into bed with him hardly takes any time and before long you're cuddled up beside him under the blankets. And there's a brief moment in the time before you pass out that you're sure you feel something cold against your neck, but when you look back down he's still there, warm and breathing softly with a slow rise and fall as he sleeps. And you know this is what you want, even if you know you should have tried to resist more. A lot of people may question it but you know with his arms around you and him snuggled like this that it can't be that wrong.


End file.
